


Hunters

by siluria



Series: Of Monsters and Men and Hell Between [2]
Category: Chronicles of Riddick Series, Doom (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 21:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siluria/pseuds/siluria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finds he's not as alone as he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunters

**Author's Note:**

> Initially written as a stand-alone for Livejournal's [Smallfandomfest](http://smallfandomfest.livejournal.com). The prompt was Reaper/Riddick, Hunters.
> 
> Many thanks to [taibhrigh](http://archiveofourown.org/users/taibhrigh/pseuds/taibhrigh) xx

John’s in yet another of the UAC’s research facilities, sliding down the air duct that will get him to the level the labs are on, when he feels it. It’s unsettling enough to make him press his arms out to stop his descent. He’s gotten used to his senses being so much better than they were before he got caught up in the UAC’s mess on Olduvai; before he lost his unit, before he ended up something other than the normal human soldier he’d been bred to be.

The imps make a lot of noise. It’s like their bodies shout out their positions with the thundering of their heartbeats and the whooshing flow of that viscous black tar through their veins. But he can sense them too. There’s a throb in his head, an obvious warning of danger that tells him something big, ugly and deadly is heading in his direction. This though, he feels it in the same area of his head, but the feeling is subdued, it’s not shouting a warning at him, it’s more of a nudge.

He can’t hear anything though, so he eases off the tension in his arms and slides the rest of the way down to the next level before shuffling forward towards a vent. He concentrates his hearing until he’s sure there’s no one, no _thing_ , near before he kicks out the grill and drops down to the dark corridor below.

It’s pitch black. He’d cut the power almost as soon as he got through the UAC’s first line of security; he can see in the dark almost as well as in the light and it gives him an advantage over anything human. The tingle in his head is still there and it’s getting stronger, so he knows whatever is out there is now heading towards him. He can sense which direction it’s coming from and his gun is up and aimed well before he picks up the sound of footsteps and a steady heartbeat.

John’s not sure what he’s expecting, probably something halfway between human and imp, on its way to being another target he needs to hunt down and dispose of. What hasn’t crossed his mind is someone closer to his mutation rather than the monsters he’s used to. The man’s as tall as he is but far more muscular, his black clothing blends into the darkness of the corridor. His arms are bare, but splattered with the dark red-black blood of the imps, blood that also clings to the long, curved blades in his hands. John would have said he was human, if it wasn’t for the silver glow of his eyes cutting through the blackness.

John stills, his finger tenses against the trigger of his rifle as the man’s nostrils flare on a deep inhale. There’s only one thing that stops him from firing, and that’s the tingle in his head so unlike anything he’s felt before. It projects calm, not the urgent _kill, fight, kill_ feelings the nearness of an imp causes. He feels like he’s being assessed.

“You ain’t one of them, but you’re not human either.”

The voice is a rumbling drawl that startles John, but he stays his finger and flexes his grip on the stock of the rifle instead. Imps aren’t ones for conversation, even those newly infected are generally reduced to the monosyllabic whispers of the insane – _all except Sarge_ , his mind screams, and that’s the thought that keeps him poised. “Could say the same about you,” he replies, stepping further away from the wall in wariness, he has no idea where this encounter is going but he’ll fight if it comes to it.

There’s a throaty chuckle. “They tried, can’t say I ain’t happy it didn’t take all the way.”

John relaxes a little. Because if the C24 kept something of the original human being then there’s something good there, and for the first time he wonders if he might not be the only one. “So what are you doing here?”

The man tilts his head, the silver narrowing as he frowns. “Reckon it’s the same thing you are. I’m making sure the fuckers don’t create anymore monsters.”

He lets the barrel of his rifle drop a little so that it’s no longer pointing at the other man. “Reaper.”

The points of the knives dip towards the floor, but John has no doubt that they’re ready to be used the second they’re needed. “Is that a job description, or your name?” John shrugs but doesn’t respond. “Riddick,” the man finally says.

John nods once, and the tingle in his head evens out into a hum. From the way Riddick shifts from one foot to the other, John starts to wonder if Riddick feels it too, if it’s a genetic disposition, part of what the C24 does. Sam seems to think something in the mutation can sense whether the imps should destroy what would become a threat, or infect what would be an ally. Until now John has only known a threat, has only felt the throb in his head from the imps, something that borders on painful. The hum is something entirely different, but not unwelcome.

“You’re a soldier,” Riddick says, breaking their silence.

“You’re not.”

Riddick chuckles. “I should be one of them. Let’s just say they thought a high-risk slam was a good place to experiment.”

John wonders if Riddick was an inmate or a guard, and can only hope that C24 got it right, because while the imps are obvious, Riddick could walk around outside without being noticed. He’s still not sure they’re on the same side when he finally speaks.

“Olduvai,” John says. He doesn’t need to say anything else. The way the Regime tells it to the networks is that a research experiment went critical, the surface of the planet was irradiated along with all the inhabitants, all half million of them. The truth of it was that John got Sam off the planet just before they held a flame to the millions of gallons of accelerant they’d dumped. But that was only after getting rid of the imps that had enough intelligence remaining to attempt to pilot one of the last working ships.

Riddick’s eyes narrow, and John is surprised to feel a wave of anger. He’s thought that was just something he has with Sam, and he’s put that down to the old wives’ tale about twins having a connection, even if it has been so much more acute since Olduvai. This though, this isn’t about knowing someone so well you can guess what they feel. He doesn’t know Riddick, what he stands for or has been through in his life, but he feels Riddick’s anger, and somehow John recognizes this is on his behalf.

“We need to talk,” Riddick growls.

Seems Riddick feels this too. “Yeah, I guess we do,” John sighs. _But not right now_ he thinks. He lifts his rifle back up to rest in his arms, the barrel now pointing away from Riddick. “You got any objection to blowing the hell out of this place first?”

Riddick grins as though there’s nothing he’d like more, and John shivers at the thrill that goes through him, a feeling of pleasure that’s not his. “Hell no.”

This hellhole belongs to the UAC and John’s determined that nothing is going to stop him from wiping out every single trace of their existence, here and every backwater planet they’ve touched. 

Riddick wipes each of the bloody blades across his thighs and grins, as if he knows what John’s thinking. His expression is feral, and with a touch of insanity to it that makes John wonder if that was there before C24 or if the reasons Riddick ended up in the slam allowed some of the degenerative effects of C24 to manifest. Whatever C24 did to Riddick there must be enough good intent in him to stop him from turning completely. If they get their talk he’ll be interested to hear the story.

With the strange feeling of trust soothing his mind, John turns his back on Riddick and heads towards where he knows the secure areas are. And as he slips round the bend in the corridor he knows Riddick has his back. It’s a feeling he’s missed, and one he could get used to again far too easily, especially when he can feel Riddick's eyes on him and the flush of desire the look brings. He thinks he can get used to that too. 


End file.
